Old Fashioned
by EvilFuzzy9
Summary: In which the Arbiter muses on human religion, and Sergeant Johnson keeps faith in his own, practical way. No pairings.


**Old Fashioned**

A _Halo _oneshot

By

EvilFuzzy9

* * *

Thel gave Johnson the Sangheili equivalent of a perplexed frown, staring uncertainly at the thick bundle of vaguely hide-like material which the human officer had abruptly shoved into his hands. The two unlikely comrades were in the temporary headquarters established by Commander Miranda Keyes, taking a rare bit of rest in between forays out into the jungle.

"What... is this?" the Arbiter inquired in a deep, rumbling voice. Small and beady forward facing eyes squinted at the article he now grasped between strong and dextrous digits, uncertain what to make of the item he held.

"A bible," replied the gruff and colorful Sergeant Major Johnson, grunting dismissively. "You Covies are all about religious stuff like that, right?"

The Arbiter glowered uselessly at the unflappable _Homo sapiens_, lowering his head to glance more closely at the object.

Indeed, he saw now that faded figures were embossed on one of the leathery flaps, shapes which Thel recognized as human writing. The characters B, I, B, L, and E were indented into the object's surface, heavily faded but still just barely legible.

"Hmm. I am not familiar with that word..." said Thel slowly, turning the object over in his hands. It was oddly thick and heavy, for something so flimsily construced, and the Arbiter brushed a finger tentatively over the worn and yellowed edges of the object's hundreds of inner flaps.

Johnson let out a short, harsh bark of laughter, seeing the cautious way the ornately armored Elite handled the object, as though he were wary it might suddenly come alive and bite him.

"What, ain't you ever seen a book before?" Avery said, looking at the Arbiter with that curiously expressive primate face of his. He was grinning, the skin around his eyes wrinkling in something Thel had learned to identify as _amusement_.

"No, never personally," the Arbiter said plainly, feeling faintly vexed by that damnably wry grin on Johnson's face. "But I have heard a little about them..."

He tilted the object, in his hands, letting half of it flop out, flip open. The soft rustling sound of thin, delicate sheets of carefully tattooed material reached the Elite's auditory meatus. He saw the small, alphabetical characters arranged into twin columns, hundreds of words physically printed onto the _pages_ of this human _book_.

"Primitive," he remarked dryly. "Even for humans."

He did not mean it as an insult, and Johnson was thickskinned enough not to take it as one.

"Belonged to my aunt," the man said. The words were spoken low, the man's gravelly voice making it sound almost like a growl. It was soft, though. "She was an old fashioned kinda woman, when it came to those sorts of things."

Thel glanced sidelong at Johnson, curious.

"Those sorts of things?"

"Yeah," said Johnson softly. "God, family, government; those sorts of things. She was one helluva woman."

The Arbiter noted Avery's use of past tense. He felt a twinge of something – a sensation somewhere between anxiety and guilt.

"Was she...?"

"Died in her sleep, back before the war," Johnson grunted. The sergeant did not seem exceptionally distressed to discuss this, and Thel supposed that shouldn't be surprising. Thirty years was a long time.

The Arbiter glanced absentmindedly back down at the book in his hands, scanning an eye over the small print.

"_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._"

Johnson chuckled softly, hearing Thel read the passage aloud.

"I'll be damned," he muttered, amused. "Helluva verse to pick at random."

Thel hummed thoughtfully.

"It certainly sounds appropriate to our situation," he remarked. "Although I am unsure of the context."

"Psalms twenty-three, verse four," Johnson said.

"Pardon?"

"One of my aunt's favorite verses: she used to quote it at me all the time. A real old fashioned kind of woman."

Johnson sounded wistful, saying this. Even Thel, as alien as he was, could identify the nostalgia in the aging human's voice.

"I take it she was quite important to you?"

Johnson nodded slowly.

"Raised me all by herself," he said. "She's a big part of the reason I joined the Corps in the first place. Wanted to make a respectable man out of myself, make her proud."

Thel was quiet for a moment, looking down at the book in his hands.

_'Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over,'_ he read absentmindedly. _'Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.'_

This was a religious text, Thel realized in a corner of his mind even as he listened to Johnson talk. A _human_ religious text.

It was strange.

It wasn't long after the beginning of the Covenant's campaign against humanity, and the ensuing war, that his people, the Sangheili, had first began to respect the tenacity and relative ability of their adversaries. Humans, despite their primitive-seeming technologies and merely average physical stature, had quickly proven themselves as worthy foes. They were resourceful, pragmatic, quick to adapt and capable of no small feats of valor upon the field of battle.

Over the course of the war, humanity had demonstrated themselves to possess many of the traits that Sangheili prized. Despite their relative stature and frailty, when compared to Brutes or Elites, and the seemingly inferior nature of their weapons technology, on the ground at least their armed forces had proven nearly the equal of the Covenant's.

Many times had Thel's people inquired why they could not induct the humans – who had proven themselves time and again as worthy as any – into the Covenant, why they were to annihilate rather than convert. But the decision to wipe out humanity had come from the Hierarchs themselves, and those highest of Prophets had always deflected any questions as to the reasoning behind their decree.

Even now, the Arbiter could only guess as to why the Hierarchs had chosen this path. He was ignorant of the reason, as perhaps everyone but the Hierarchs themselves were. And two of the Hierarchs were dead.

Thel 'Vadamee glanced sidelong at Johnson, who was looking off into the distance. He was lost, perhaps, in memories of happier days, in recollection of all those he had lost.

He looked back down at book, the _Bible_, as Johnson had called it.

_'The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein._  
_For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods._  
_Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place?'_

It was funny.

How many years had he fought the humans, now? The Arbiter could not help but wonder. He had led his troops against humanity in countless battles, personally commanded the conquest and "purification" of their military power center, Reach. He had learned much of their tactics, their weaponry, even their social structures and language, all to better combat those whom the Prophets had deemed unforgivable heretics.

Yet Thel had never even given thought to what religious beliefs the humans themselves might hold. He had always believed so firmly in the teachings of the Prophets, in the promise of the Great Journey, that he had never felt the need. What should it have mattered, what small gods these primitive heretics prayed to?

He had never considered that human beliefs, other ways of thinking, might possibly be valid. He had never wavered in his faith, never doubted the words of his forebears.

But now Thel knew the Great Journey to be a lie, at least in part. The Forerunners hadn't transcended the material plane – or no moreso, at any rate, than any who die and pass away beyond mortal knowledge.

His gods were dead. They died a hundred thousand years ago.

_'He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully._  
_He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation._  
_This is the generation of them that seek him, that seek thy face, O Jacob. Selah.'_

"Humans..." Thel said after a long silence, glancing at Johnson. "...I've never thought about it before, but... what kinds of gods do your people believe in?"

Avery was quiet for a moment, perhaps in thought, before cracking a wry grin.

"Damned if I know," he said gruffly, pleasantly dismissive. "But if they exist, then they'd better get off their lazy asses and lend us a hand down here."

The Arbiter could not help the laugh which bubbled up from his throat.

"As always, you have such a way with words," he said dryly, giving Johnson the Sangheili equivalent of an amused grin.

"It's a gift."

A moment passed. Thel and Johnson shared a happy, companionable silence.

Then their comms buzzed, and the voice of Miranda Keyes rang in their respective auditory organs.

_"Johnson, Arbiter,"_ the woman's words came in loud and clear, her message short and brisk. _"Sensors have picked up an unidentified atmospheric entry above sector seven. It didn't ping as any kind of known Covenant vessel, and it appears to be heading on a crash course to these coordinates."_

The decimal values of terrestrial longitude and latitude appeared on Thel's HUD, a holographic display from his helmet that overlaid itself seamlessly atop the Elite's field of vision.

_"Whatever that thing is, it sounds like the Covenant has noticed it too. It's caught their interest. And if the Covenant is interested in it... then _I'm_ interested in it." _

"Read you loud and clear, Commander," Johnson replied, speaking into his comm mic. "I'll gather up whatever ground-pounders I can get my hands on, then head out there to give our guest a warm welcome."

Something in the way Johnson said _guest_ caught Thel's attention, and apparently Miranda noticed it too.

_"There's no guarantee that it's him, you know."_

Avery Johnson shook his head, letting out another bark of that harsh yet warm laughter.

"You don't know him like _I_ know him," the Sergeant Major replied. "The Lord may work in mysterious ways, but you can always count on Chief to make a flashy entrance."

The comm switched off with an exasperated sigh from Commander Keyes.

Thel looked at Johnson curiously.

"You don't really think...?"

Avery shrugged, and began strapping his gear on.

"Sometimes you just gotta have faith," he replied. Then he picked up his M6 series and slammed a fresh clip in. Somewhat cheekily, he added, "...but a gun works too, in a pinch."

Thel smiled as only a Sangheili could.

"How old fashioned."

He set the careworn Bible down, replacing it in his hands with a plasma rifle. They headed out.

_Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.  
Who is this King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle.  
Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.  
Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory. Selah._

* * *

A/N: In a break from the recent flow of smut, here is a nice and family friendly bit of Arbiter introspection and Johnson IWHBYD for Easter.

Bible verses quoted include the latter half of Psalm 23 and the entirety of Psalm 24.

**Updated: **4-20-14

**TTFN and R&R!**

– — ❤


End file.
